Forever and Always
by Piper is Boss
Summary: When America wakes up from a major operation on her brain, she is missing her memory. She is badly disoriented, and she flees from the palace to start a new life. But fate interfered, so two years later, America, now with a new identity and a beau, is brought back into Maxon's life. Can he give her the "forever and always" he promised long ago, being that she doesn't even remember?
1. The Midnight Tryst

**Disclaimer: If I owned The Selection, I should be sitting on my throne of strawberry tarts eating chocolate ice cream right now while editing the ending to The One so that Aspen would confess he's actually gay. Oh, how the fangirls will love it.**

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Maxon leaned back against the huge oak tree, his head now resting on my shoulder. He held my favorite book – Number the Stars by Lois Lowry – with his right hand, his left settled low on my waist. He was absently tracing patters on my shirt with his thumb. Everything about his posture suggested ease.

The soft blanket protected us from the cold December breeze, and for a while everything was quiet. Shimmering stars peppered the navy blue skies, and a nearby lamppost served as our only light source. So how Maxon was still able to read considering our current situation was beyond my understanding. I breathed in the fresh air then took a bite out of the apple I was holding.

There were no guards stationed near us, Maxon made sure of that, so our privacy was guaranteed. Maxon tugged on his ear during lunch earlier today, and thankfully, we were able to sneak out to the gardens without being caught. We had to be extra careful, considering the fact that King Clarkson had starting monitoring his son's dates. Heaven knows what he'll do if he spots Maxon and me together.

A warmth rushed through me. The prince was desperately making time for me, even if he doesn't have to in the first place. He made sure I felt comfortable in the palace, and he graciously tried so hard to make me feel like I wasn't alone. Plus, all his plans about making me the people's favorite were finally beginning to work. No, I wasn't in the top spot in the public poll, nor was I in second. But I was in third place, which was definitely a good start. Maxon had taught me the things to say on the _Report_, taught me the proper way to behave, and he told me to ask my maids to dress me up in something more regal. He was doing all of this for me, and I was grateful for that.

"You finished yet?" I asked him. We've been sitting here for hours already, and by the looks of it, it was very late at night. To my dismay, he shook his head and said, "Not if you keep talking. I'm almost done, and you're just another beautiful distraction. I just can't seem to take my eyes off you, even as I read."

I smiled then rolled my eyes as he kissed my shoulder. I looked to the page he was on; I was all too familiar with the scene. "So Inge and the Rosens are waiting ten minutes before they can escape to the ship going to Sweden? That's not very close to the ending."

"Yes, but at least I can spend more time with you," he said with a grin, reaching out to hold my hand. I sighed. "Spend that time wisely, then. You're on a date with me, not my book."

He closed the book and set it down, inching closer to me. We both looked to the sky. The full moon illuminated the whole garden, giving it an alluring glow. The sky was filled with vast constellations, some of them I remember from my childhood. I closed my eyes. Everything seemed so peaceful, and it was as if nothing bad would ever happen here.

I heard Maxon smirk. "I bet _I_ could number the stars," he said.

I looked at him then giggled. "Of course, Prince Maxon. The universe is only _way_ too big for you to do so. I'd like to see you try."

"Of course. Anything for you, dear."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? You're my dear, and I'd do anything for you. Need I remind you of the night in the safe room?"

I shuddered inwardly at the thought of his bloodied back. "Let's not talk about that, Maxon."

"I'd take a thousand lashes for you if I had to. I care about you way more than you think."

I was silent for a while. "Thank you," I said. He did a mock salute, which made me laugh. "You just reminded me of the German soldiers in the book. Taken a liking to them?"

"Perhaps," he said. Just then, the light from the lamppost flickered off. I shifted a bit; I've never been alone with a boy in the dark before, except Aspen. So this was a little bit uncomfortable for me. Fortunately, Maxon noticed my uneasiness, so he wrapped his arms around me tight. "Hey," he said, "I'm here, so don't be so edgy." I nodded.

"Why don't we just talk?" he asked. "To get your mind of things. Let's see, what's your favorite part in Number the Stars?"

"If I tell you, I'd spoil the whole ending."

"Fine. A favorite scene from the ones I've already read."

I thought about it. I loved everything about that book since I was eleven years old. It was hard to pick out a part I favored more than the others. The members of the Resistance were the ones I really looked up to, and I loved how every act of bravery showed their passionate love for their country. They cared about the freedom of their people. And how Peter Nielsen was able to risk his life just to be able to save the lives of all those Jews. _I found myself admiring them, wondering at the courage it took to run toward danger for the sake of other people._

But while further reading Number the Stars, I found out that bravery doesn't just lie among those men who were willing to fight and give their lives for the ones they love. Sometimes, bravery comes in even in the smallest forms and acts of love and selflessness, and that's what little Annemarie – the main character – showed me. You don't need to be a member of an underground rebel organization fighting for freedom and equality to be a courageous role model. Being a good friend was enough, and how desperate Annemarie was to keep her best friend safe made me melt inside.

"Remember that part when the German soldiers barged into the Johansen's apartment looking for the Rosens? Annemarie tore off Ellen's necklace with the Star of David on it, right? The way she held _so_ tight for her best friend's safety totally touched me. I mean, yes, she had to do that so the soldiers wouldn't see it, and that would raise suspicion. But just the way she held onto it showed how much Annemarie loves Ellen, how much she'll keep holding on unwaveringly. Even if Ellen escapes to Sweden, and no matter how long she'll spend time there, her best friend will always keep a firm grip."

Maxon nodded, a small smile on his face. "I guess we could definitely relate to the story. What with the rebels and the war and all that." He was quiet, and I know that the silence meant he was thinking. "What about you?" he said finally. "Would you be willing to hold on? For me?"

For a moment there, I thought he was subtly bringing up the issue of rebuilding trust. I thought he was asking that even despite his mistakes and imperfections, we would still be able to trust each other again. And I didn't want to discuss that, but I guess I just misinterpreted the question. Because when I looked at his face, even in the dark, there was no mistaking the different emotions swimming in his warm, brown orbs. They were filled with hope, love, admiration, and longing. One look at his face said I was stupid if I thought he was accusing me by asking the question.

I ruffled his hair playfully then laughed at his attempt to do the same. I cupped his cheek with my hand. "Of course," I replied. "I'll never forget you. And no matter what, I'll never loose my grip on you. I'll never let you go."

_I felt our noses brush in the dark, and the urge to kiss him came unexpectedly fast. _Thankfully, I could sense Maxon starting to lean in as well. He slowly closed the distance between us, and before I knew it, his soft lips were on mine. He pulled me in so close I could hear his heartbeat beginning to rush. One of his arms was wrapped around my waist tight, and the other one was settled at the back of my head, keeping me close. The kiss was delicate and gentle, and just as quick as it had started, Maxon pulled away, a huge grin on his handsome face.

"I have something to tell you," he said, looking deep into my eyes and all the while keeping me close. "I might be in love with you." He smiles a little. "I'm waiting until I'm sure to tell you, though."

"That's sensible of you," I said, smiling too. "We should find some paper so we can make a list or a chart or something."

I feel his laughter against my side, his nose sliding along my jaw, his lips pressing my ear. "Maybe I'm already sure," he said, "and I just don't want to frighten you."

I laugh a little. "Then you should know better."

"Fine," he says. "Then I love you."

I smile then press a kiss to his lips, my hand burying itself in his soft hair. As I pulled away, he stared at me adoringly. "It's funny," he said. "You're the only girl I ever told that. Well, you and my mother." He was quiet for a while again. "Do you love me too?"

As much as it hurt me to say it, I didn't want him to get his hopes up then just get disappointed in the end. "I don't know, Maxon. I don't know if I can say it yet. But I know I feel something deep for you, don't forget that."

He nodded, a bit disappointed. "That's fine, America. I could wait a million years for you to say those words. But when the time comes, when you finally say you love me without anything holding you back, I'd be the happiest man alive." He grinned widely. "In fact, I'd fly you to the moon."

I laughed. "The moon? Are you sure?"

"Of course! I'd put you in a rocket ship then fly you all the way to the moon, where we can number the stars together. Then when we're finally there, I'll point to all the planets in sight and say, 'See that, America? Even with how big or vast the world my be, we still found each other'."

At his words, my heart nearly melted. "You really would do anything for me, wouldn't you?" I asked quietly.

He stood up then crouched in front of me, holding both of my hands. "Of course, darling," he said. "You ask for such simple things. I can't deny you."

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**A/N: Hello, I'm Piper. That is not my real name. This is my first Selection fanfic, y'all! *fangirls* ****So I got quotes/scenes from Divergent, The One, and Got To Believe, the telenovela I based this on. ********Number the Stars is a children's book by Lois Lowry, and it's about the bravery and unity of the Danes during World War 2. Thanks for reading, awesome nerds.**

**Pronunciation:**

**Inge = it's pronounced as "sing a poem" without the "s" and the "poem". Johansen = yo-HAN-sen **


	2. Through the Double Doors

I looked at Maxon, a small smile on my face. He always knew what to say, whatever the situation. His sweet, reassuring words were my haven from the harsh world and all its cruelties. When he spoke them, all unease and discomfort would leave my body, the warmth and thoughtfulness of his smile replacing it. I've spent so much time worrying he completely forgot about me, that his attention was fully focused on another, yet here he was telling me he loved me, that he'll take me to far off places I've never even dreamed of reaching. He is the breath of fresh air in the middle of a polluted wasteland. He is the oxygen I'm dying to breathe.

He is essential.

I nestled even closer to him, comforted by his warmth. Maxon kissed the top of my head. He sighed contentedly. A huge grin was now etched across his perfect features, and I could feel his eyes on me from time to time. We may not be doing anything at the moment, but just _being with him _makes me feel incredible. I breathed in his sweet scent, the scent of wood and soap and vanilla. He takes an apple from the basket and bites into it.

I thought about everything that just happened. _Fine. Then I love you. _Ever since his confession, there was a shift in the mood of our attempts at conversation. They seemed lighthearted and more playful, and it brought me back to the times when I had just entered the Selection and was just introduced to the luxury of life at the palace. When Maxon Schreave was my best friend. When he was a stiff, awkward, nerdy nineteen-year-old who never knew what to do in front of women.

When our secrets and flaws hadn't frayed the bonds that held us together.

When I hadn't yet given him my heart, only to have it shattered into pieces.

But those times are gone, and we can never go back to them again.

I can't say "I love you" back, at least not yet. I don't know if I could do that. I'm not sure if I'm willing to fall for him again, possibly out of fear of breaking. All those blissful times of being Maxon's and Maxon's alone were over, because I am sharing him with three other girls competing for his heart, for the crown, and for a future. To tell him I loved him would be giving him my full devotion, and I didn't think that was something I could actually _give_. There was still Aspen. I couldn't forget him.

The pain Maxon had caused me was unbearable. The pain Aspen had caused me was unimaginable. I didn't want a repeat of any of that.

Maybe I've already fallen in love with Maxon. Maybe I haven't. But I know he means too much to me, and a life without him would be devoid of love, freedom, and happiness. I would dissolve into a heap of nothingness without him by my side. Still, I couldn't give him access to my heart that easily.

But I would be nothing without Aspen, either. And it scared me. I felt worthless, disgusting, having a romantic relationship with two men at once. Rebuilding trust was an issue between Maxon and me. I believed that if there was trust, honesty was automatically present. He had to know about Aspen and me, consequences be damned. I don't want to lose Maxon again, and I wanted us to be truthful with one another more than anything.

I wanted to be his darling, but I blew it all away just because I couldn't say three stupid words.

_I love you._

Guilt was coursing through my veins, eating away at me. Why couldn't I just say the words he needed to hear? Why did I have to have secret meetings with Aspen? Why did I have to ruin my relationship with the two people I cared most about in my life? Why do I always have to mess up? Why couldn't I just do something _right_?

"Darling, why are you crying?" Maxon asked quietly.

"Huh?" I didn't notice the silent tears rolling down my cheek. Maxon gingerly wiped them away with his thumb, leaving a trail of heat on my skin, all the while maintaining an intense yet gentle gaze. "You okay?"

"I don't deserve you." I was right. He didn't have to love me. There were plenty of other girls more deserving of his attention. I would forever be the girl disappearing into the shadows, eternally unnoticed. Unwanted and unloved. That would've been so much easier.

I heard Maxon sigh. "Don't say that, America."

"Why can't you just understand?" The tears came again, and I would've shouted if only I couldn't draw too much attention if I'd do so. "Why do you love _me_? Can't you just love Elise, or…or Celeste, or…or...or Kriss? I know you love Kriss!" And though it broke my heart to say it, I couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. Maxon furrowed his brows then shook his head slowly. It didn't really make me feel better.

"Can't you want _them_? That would just be so easier for me, for everyone! Don't you see how hard the situation is for me?"

Maxon wrapped his arms around me consolingly then began patting my shoulder. "I don't want them," he said. "I only want _you, _America. And I want to make this as easy as possible for you. I can understand your pain and hardships, but you're not alone, America. You will always be the one. And I told you I'd wait forever – "

"No," I said, unable to stop myself. "It's something so much more than that."

And as I lay there crying into his shirt, he didn't ask any further about what I meant. Good. I didn't want to end the night like that.

"America, dear, do you want to get back to your room now?"

I nodded. Maxon helped me to my feet, gave my back a final pat, picked up the blanket and began folding it up neatly, smoothing out the rumples. I noticed some apple cores littered all over the grass. There was no trashcan nearby, so I merely placed them inside the now-empty picnic basket. I brushed the dried leaves off my pants, afterwards pulling out the dead twigs from my hair. I wiped out the last of my tears with the back of my hand.

My eyes found their way to Number the Stars. I folded the top right corner of the page Maxon was reading then handed it to him, flashing a half-hearted smile as he took it. He smiled back, but his face betrayed a hint of disappointment.

"Hey," I started quickly as we began to walk towards the double doors. My voice was still tight from crying. "I'm sorry our night was cut short again."

Maxon chuckled. "Don't worry, America," he said. "I'm not mad. I'm the one who made us sit by that tree since six in the evening, anyway."

I giggled. "Exactly." Maxon tentatively entwined our hands together, making me blush furiously. Thank goodness it was so dark. I instantly felt better. "I'll come with you to your room," he said.

As we approached him, the stiff guard's eyes jolted awake, his big, stocky frame suddenly alert. Maxon tensed up beside me. The guard most likely didn't know we were here, and he could've gotten into serious trouble if anything happened to us. We were supposed to be heavily protected, and yet nobody knew of our whereabouts. They all probably thought Maxon and I were in our separate rooms.

"Your Majesty," the guard said with a low bow. Maxon responded with a curt nod. He stopped briefly, turning to face the guard. "Not a word to my father," he whispered. "Yes, Your Highness," the officer replied.

We continued on our way. Maxon relaxed a little. "My father's been interfering too much with my Selection. He's even been setting up my dates."

Something knotted in my stomach.

Maxon looked at me apologetically. "I hope you don't mind. I only found out yesterday. I'm trying to spend only so much time with you, but Father barely penciled you in. Aside from all those meetings, I'm mostly spending my time with Elise. The damn war in New Asia is getting really out of hand, and – "

"Max," I said. "Calm down. It's totally fine with me." It's not fine with me. It's not fine with me at all. I must be thinking selfishly. Lots of New Asian lives are at risk, and it made me sick just thinking about all those innocent people dying at the mercy of nuclear bombs and bullets.

Maxon nodded. A moment passed, then I heard him burst into laughter. I gave him a look. "What's so funny?" I asked, genuinely confused.

He didn't answer for a while, he just kept laughing. "Maxon?" I said. More peals of laughter. His laugh didn't sound really goofy anymore, but it was still weird. He was beginning to creep me out. When he still wouldn't recompose himself, I stopped walking abruptly, yanking my hand from his then crossing my arms. Maxon slowly began to calm down, yet I maintained an annoyed stare. He cleared his throat. "Did you just call me _Max_?"

_What?_ All that wasted time just because I called him by a nickname? "I can't believe you!"

"What?"

"You slowed us down and kept on laughing just because I called you that!"

"I can't help it. It was so funny. Why did you call me Max anyway?"

"Maxon is a handful."

"Two syllables, Mer."

I didn't mind him calling me "Mer" now. But the way he used it. It was as if he was making fun of me. I rolled my eyes. "Oh, so we're calling each other pet names now?"

"Apparently so."

"Maxon," I warned.

"Don't call me Max."

"Don't call me your dear."

"I'll try." Good enough.

"Fine." We descended up the stairs, Maxon letting out short chuckles from time to time. I kept glancing sideways at him. Everything about him seems too good to be true. "Like what you see?" he asked with a smirk. I blushed again. "Shut up, Maxon."

We were at my door already. Maxon stepped up to open the door for me. But as I opened my mouth to thank him, I was frozen on the spot. I was completely unprepared for what I saw.

I am breaking.

I am burning.

I am bending.

I am forever the girl disappearing into the shadows, eternally unnoticed. I am unwanted and unloved.

And Celeste was the girl with the halfway-unzipped dress Aspen had pinned to the wall, kissing her passionately as if they were the only two people in the room.

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**A/N: Hi everyone! (OMG that was so weird like you've just read a dramatic sentence up there and i'm just like "hi everyone!" in a cheery voice I'm sorry) I know it's been a while, but I've been dealing with a small amount of writer's block lately. IT MADE ME FEEL SO EMPTY INSIDE. But here I am with nothing else to do, so.**

**WAIT. All those responses totally blew me away! Thanks for all your support, guys! You all motivated me to update *kinda* quickly, and I like totally love you all. For reals. But I haven't responded to the guest reviewers yet, so.**

**Melody: Really? That was a really sweet thing to say, and it's one of the nicest things I received in a review. Thank you!**

**winterprincess: Aww, thanks! That was one of the best things one has said about my writing. ILY!**

**So I don't know if you want to read all that Aspen/Celeste/America drama in the next chapter or if you want it written down in this chpt. Your call. Just tell me through a review :)**

**I'm sorry this chapter was kind of like a filler (at least, I think it is), but I've just been feeling very unproductive lately. Thanks again, guys. You made me all kinds of happy.**


	3. One Night of Weakness

**A/N: You deserve an explanation for the chapter's delay, and I'm ready with it. You'll find it in the author's note at the bottom. For those of you confused, let me explain. During a date, Maxon tells America he loves her, then she feels guilty because she's not sure she can say she loves him back. They go back up to her room to find Aspen and Celeste kissing (gods that was so awkward to type out).**

**PS, I totally don't curse. I only go as far as "crap" and "damn", but that's it. There may be mild language in this chapter (and this chapter only!), but you guys need to understand how angry America is right now. I don't use the "a" word, I use "butt" instead. I don't use the "b" word, I use "female dog" instead. And to make up for the delay, we have a chapter that is slightly longer than the others.**

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When I had walked in on Maxon kissing Celeste, I thought that maybe my heart had broken completely, that it could never be mended again. When I watched as Marlee was caned and stripped off her caste, the agony that filled me was overwhelming. When Aspen had broken up with me and left me alone in our tree house, I thought I was experiencing torture in its truest, most excruciating form. But I guess not. The ache and torment I was feeling right now was up to a whole new level.

I willed the tears to come. They didn't. Instead, pure rage began boiling inside me; I was so fed up with these sick games Aspen made me play. I was done with crying every time I was faced with betrayal and heartbreak. I was tired of feeling weak and hopeless.

I hurried for the light switch, turned it on, and saw Aspen break away from Celeste a bit, slightly staggering. Part of me expected him to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness, but he didn't even see me. Instead he looked into Celeste's eyes as she smiled seductively, and I can see them both leaning in again.

"Stop." Maxon's voice was loud and full of authority, and there was no gentleness leaking into his words. I looked at him, and his eyes softened ever so slightly when they met mine. He broke away from our gaze and glared at Aspen and Celeste, his expression cold and bitter. The two now sprung apart, Celeste smirking while she attempted to fix her dress. Aspen looked overcome with shock and guilt; he stood as still as a statue. Our eyes met for the briefest of moments, but he looked away quickly, either not wanting or not able to look at me. I couldn't look at him either. He disgusted me.

"You're hurting America," Maxon pointed out. "I can see it in her eyes." The way he looked at me told me I had a lot of explaining to do later on, but I couldn't care less about that right now. All I could think of was the way Aspen held Celeste in his arms. The thought made my heart ache.

Celeste flashed a sexy smile at Maxon, batting her eyelashes at him. What was her deal? This was a completely inappropriate time to seduce him.

"Aspen?" I whispered, finally looking at him. "America, I…" He still wouldn't look at me. "Look, Mer , I'm – "

But I couldn't let him finish the sentence. I immediately slapped his face as hard as I could; I was satisfied with the loud smack that followed. No one tried to stop me.

"You _idiot_!" I yelled, lashing out at him. "I needed you! I trusted you! I _loved_ you! Why would you hurt me like this knowing what I've been going through? And you were both _in my room_! _You were making out in my room_! How do you think that feels? It hurts, Aspen! It really, really hurts!"

His green eyes met mine, sad and pleading. "America, I didn't – "

"Mean it? Know it was Celeste?" I finished. I grabbed the collar of his shirt. "I daresay! I deserve a reasonable answer! You just..." I let out a frustrated sigh. I let go of him then turned to Celeste. "And you?" I said. "You sick _slut_!I can't handle you anymore, you asshole!" And I slapped her too. The look of absolute hatred in her eyes was gratifying, and it was worth it.

"Bitch!" she exclaimed, and she began pulling at my hair. I did the same to her, and as we fell to the floor lashing out at each other, I realized I didn't mind the throbbing pain in my head. I was too busy enjoying Celeste's.

Her long nails scratched my cheek, yet I ignored the immense pain and began pinching her arm as hard as I could. She let out a loud, high-pitched shriek then slapped me hard on the face. I kicked her sides, and I was glad to see her writhe in pain. I guess that made me sadistic, but I didn't care. I wanted to see her suffer.

I felt Maxon's strong hands on my shoulders restraining me. "Please stop it, America," he whispered gently in my ear. I obeyed him somewhat reluctantly, eyeing Celeste and Aspen with unadulterated loathing. My breathing was heavy and uneven. "Out," I barked at them. "We'll talk in the morning."

As they both began to awkwardly walk out, I told Aspen to stay for a while. He did, and as I looked into his green eyes, they were full of pain and regret. He was the first one to speak. "I'm so sorry," he said.

I laughed lamely then shook my head. "No apology would make me un-see what I had just witnessed, Officer Leger."

"Can't you just listen to what I have to say – "

"No, you listen to what I have to say! Aspen, I thought I loved you," I said, not caring if Maxon could hear. "You were my hero. I needed you like I needed _air_. I fell in love with you because you were the boy who sacrificed sleep for me, who gathered pennies for me, the first boy who looked into my eyes and told me I was beautiful, who gave me butterflies in my stomach every time I saw you! _I loved you_. But now…" – I shrugged – "now I'm not so sure."

He was quiet for a few minutes before saying, "There isn't anything I can do to fix this, isn't there?"

I sighed, shaking my head. He nodded. "But please, America," he said, "don't think I would ever stop loving you. I will never give up on you. I love you, and I still do. I still want you. And though Prince Maxon is moving into your heart, always remember that I was there first. But if you could only let me explain this away – "

I couldn't meet his eyes. "Your intentions were clear from the beginning. Get out," I said. And he did. Maxon and I were alone in the room now, and I was aware that I had probably shattered his heart. Though when I looked at him, he wasn't angry. He was sympathetic.

"Aren't you mad?" I asked quietly.

He stared at me. "That guard. Aspen, his name was. Were you ever with him in all your time here?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever…kiss or something?"

I looked at my feet. "Secret meetings," I admitted. "We had secret meetings. We did kiss at some of them, yes."

He sighed then sat down on my couch, gesturing for me to sit down beside him, which I did. I rested my head on his shoulder as he wrapped him arm around my waist, listening to the sound of his quiet breathing. "Do you still want me?" I asked sulkily.

He was quiet for a while. "Remember when I said once that there was nothing you could do that I can't forgive?" he asked, and I nodded. "And remember our date earlier, when I told you I loved you?" I nodded again. He stared deeply into my eyes, his nose brushing mine. "That'll never change. Because as long as I live, I will love you. I love you, and I will love you until I die. And if there is life after that, I'll love you then.

"And though I am hurt by your actions, I did cause you unbearable pain that night when you walked in on me and Celeste. But I do wish you had told me about this sooner."

I nodded again. "I wasn't ready yet, Maxon. I wanted to wait until I was ready."

"That's okay. I forgive you. Now wipe that frown off your beautiful face, gorgeous."

I managed a weak laugh, but my lower lip trembled as I opened my mouth to say no. I shook my head instead, finally breaking down. Maxon pulled me into his arms, letting me cry into his shirt. He whispered soothing words into my ear, rocking me back and forth gently, yet my heaving sobs still echoed in the quiet room. I allowed myself this one night of weakness, only one night of crying all the pain and heartbreak out. One night, and that was it.

"I feel so stupid," I said, sounding like a six-year-old girl who had broke her doll. "I can't believe I fell for him."

Maxon shushed me. "No, you're not stupid. You fell in love. Love can make you do the craziest things, can't it?"

I nodded. "It can."

After what felt like hours, my moment of weakness was over, and the tears had dried up eventually.

"What do you think they'll do to him?" I ask Maxon. "Aspen, I mean."

"They do have the right to kill him, America," he said. "But since there aren't any cameras in your room, people might not find out. So I guess the choice is up to you, America. What do you want to do with them?"

I thought about it for a second. I didn't want Aspen to loose his job; his family needed all the money he could earn. I guess some space from him would do great. "You can assign Aspen to guard the family of one of the Elite. I would prefer Kriss' family, or Elise's, but I don't want him to loose his job.

"As for Celeste… well, we all want her out. She's a nightmare, really. I have no shred of sympathy towards that girl. But I know I shouldn't be the one to make your decisions for you."

He shook his head. "Nonsense. I'll have her board the plane to Clermont first thing tomorrow. I can't stand her either, anyway."

I gave an almost-laugh. "Who can?"

And for the second time in my life, I fell asleep in Maxon Schreave's arms, feeling a hundred times more at ease than ever.

* * *

Maxon woke me up an hour before my maids would come. "Didn't you want to talk to Officer Leger and Celeste?" he reminded me when I had asked why.

I walked to the bathroom to wash my face to find my eyes puffy and red. They felt heavier than ever, and bags had already formed underneath. My hair was slightly disheveled, and there were now wrinkles on my jacket. My cheeks were still blotchy. I looked so weak.

No. No more weakness. I've already had last night for that. I would face Aspen with my head held high, my face not betraying any hint of emotion, even though I was internally crumbling behind that façade.

There was a pounding on the door. "Maxon!" a deep, hoarse voice bellowed. I'd recognize that voice anywhere. It was King Clarkson.

He knocked hard again. "Maxon, I command you to open up this door!" The terror in Maxon's eyes was unmistakable as he stared after me. As I approached the door, he stood up and shook his head "no" urgently, but I wouldn't let him stop me.

I opened up the door to find the king in sweeping, long, fur-trimmed violet robes, his huge golden crown perched on top of his head. He looked at me with a look of utter disgust on his face, Celeste standing beside him wearing a devious grin.

"Ah, Lady America," Clarkson said, his voice surprisingly cheery, "just the girl I wanted to see."

It took only so much of me not to roll my eyes. I took a deep breath. "Please," I said through gritted teeth. "Come in, _Your Majesty_."

My sarcasm didn't please him. As he stepped in, he tried to subtly kick me hard in the shins. Maxon rushed to my side immediately. "Are you okay?" he asked me. "Yeah," I whispered. "Thanks."

The king scoffed. Maxon turned to glare at his father. "Is there anything you came here for, Sir?"

King Clarkson's face broke out into a sick grin. "Why yes!" he exclaimed. "You see, Celeste here had approached me earlier while I was taking a walk. She told me Lady America had physically assaulted her for kissing Officer Leger in her room."

"And you're okay with that?" Maxon demanded. "It was America's room, Father, they should at least be ashamed."

"I forgave her," the king snapped. "She was already sobbing into my shoulder, the poor thing. I could tell she was genuinely sorry for what she had done, so I forgave her.

"But what I do want to know," he continued, "is why Lady America had reacted that way. Tell me, my lady, how close were you to that guard?"

My fists curled into balls at my side. "You don't need to know."

"I do. I want to. Did you have any_ romantic_ relationship with Officer Leger? We wouldn't want a repeat of Miss Tames now, do we?"

"Leave Marlee out of this."

"Stalling would only waste time," King Clarkson said lazily. "It is against the law to keep confidential information from your king. I can have you killed on the spot right now if I find out you've been fooling around with that guard. An act like that is punishable by death."

"I'm not afraid of you," I said with absolute clarity. "And yes, _my king_, I have had a romantic relationship with Officer Leger, and I'm not ashamed of it now. You can kill me now for all I care, because I am not a liar. Celeste is."

"I forgave her, Father," Maxon spoke up. "And no one is getting killed. Lady Celeste leaves today, and America stays. This is my Selection, not yours. I make the choices. Heck, you're only supposed to sit there and watch!"

Clarkson laughed malevolently. "The problem is, Maxon, the people don't trust you enough anymore to make wise decisions."

The king looked to me. "America, follow me," he ordered. Maxon's eyes widened immediately. "No!"

He wrapped his arms tight around me, keeping me away from his father. Clarkson tried to wriggle me away painfully from Maxon's tight grasp, grabbing me by the shoulders. I swear they would bruise later on, but Maxon still wouldn't give up on me.

But he was no match for his father. I was eventually yanked away from his firm embrace, Clarkson dragging me to the door by my wrist. Maxon tried chasing after us, but the king grabbed the collar of his shirt with his free hand saying, "If you try to chase after her, or if you even _think_ of mentioning this to anyone," – his grip on my wrist tightened even more, and I couldn't hold back the pathetic whimper I just let out – "I'll do much, much worse."

As we left, Maxon stared after me, desperation and unadulterated pain swimming in his brown eyes.

* * *

**A/N: All hail Piper Pippins, Queen of the Butts!**

**I am just the biggest butt alive. My schedule was absolutely hectic. I had schoolwork and ballet, HOURS AND HOURS OF BALLET, and I couldn't find the time to write this chapter. I stayed up until midnight to write this, and I woke up at six am to write little of what's left. **

**Mmkay, I borrowed words from another author. Uhh… oh yah, "I love you, and I will love you until I die. And if there is life after that, I'll love you then". Jace Wayland, City of Glass by Cassandra Clare. Yeah, I guess that's it.**

**And yeah, hai, so I was wondering, how do you guys pronounce "Schreave"? I'm just freaking out here because after all this time I might have been mispronouncing it…**

**Please tell me if this chapter was crappy. Like, I know it's crappy; it's mine. I felt like it was lacking something, actually. I can edit it anytime :)**

**And thank you for all the reviews! I absolutely loved them ;) **

**I'll try not to take three weeks to update next time! I know you guys are anticipating the memory loss part, and don't worry, I'm getting to that. And when I do, be in for lots of Maxerica. Also lots of America/OC. I mean, you'll all love America's boyfriend, I'm sure :) THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU, LET'S ALL GO GET MARRIED.**

–**Piper Pippins**


	4. Past the Point of No Return

**A/N: Hi, there! Like, thanks for all those follows, favorites, and reviews. They mean a lot to me. So, I'm publishing two chapters today in order to make up for the slight delay. Also, I need a beta reader. PM me if you're interested. RESPONSE TO GUEST REVIEWERS AT THE BOTTOM.**

**PS MAXON WILL BE NARRATING LATER ON! TWICE! *silent partying inside my head***

* * *

**AMERICA'S POV**

Clarkson dragged me to a secret passageway hidden somewhere behind the rose bushes in the gardens. It was carved messily out of stone; it looked like it was simply added as an after-thought. It looked generations old, and a foul, horrible stench hung in the air from inside the tunnel. There was an impressive amount of weeds surrounding the entrance. It was dark and murky, and no lights hung from the ceiling. The passageway was well hidden; though I've walked the gardens with Maxon hundreds of times, I've never seen it before, and I probably would have missed it again today if King Clarkson wasn't taking me there.

I wonder if Maxon knew about this.

I almost tripped on my untied shoelaces as I stumbled inside, not daring to make a sound. The passage was narrow, and as I trudged behind the king, my jacket and pants had been dirtied and soiled by the moist walls. I couldn't see at all. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. But despite the obvious lack of light, King Clarkson seemed to know this place like the back of his hand, as if he spent his whole life wandering these corridors. How many people had he brought here?

We kept walking until we reached a staircase. And the staircase, just like the hallway, was narrow. It was hard to climb it, but after a while we finally reached the top. I think I should have seen it coming, but again, I was completely unprepared for what I saw.

Dungeons. Prison cells, basically. The king was locking me up somewhere where I couldn't be found, where Maxon couldn't come to my aid, past the point of no return. My blood ran cold.

No.

No way.

I couldn't be locked up for no reason at all; that was ridiculous.

I turned to King Clarkson, letting bitterness drip into my voice as I spoke. "Let me go."

The king rolled his eyes. He reached inside his pocket, pulling out a rusty old key. Clarkson led me to one of the bigger cells, which looked like one of the safe rooms for the help, but smaller and in far worse condition. I was literally thrown in there as if I meant nothing, as if I weighed nothing, as if I was worth nothing, as if I _was _nothing. Anyway, who am I to complain? Those things are true. I am meaningless, weightless, worthless, and all of me is nothing but nothingness combined with none other than nothing but flesh, blood, and bone. Nothing. That word seemed to sum up my whole existence. Observe:

+ + = America Singer   


Nothing plus nothing plus nothing equals to America Singer. It's how the world was designed to be.

I sat there pathetically on my knees inside the foul prison cell, looking into King Clarkson's cruel, metallic silver eyes. He looked down at me and scoffed then, after spitting a wad of something disgusting onto the cold stone floor, he spoke. "We'll be back for you tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I will bring you your meals. And be quiet, or else. Understand? Are we clear?"

No, my king, I most certainly do not understand. And no, sir, we are, without a doubt, _not_ 'clear'. "Yes, Your Highness."

As he walked away, one question struck me. "Wait!" I shouted. The king looked back at me, clearly annoyed. "Wait," I repeated. "What about going to the bathroom? Or bathing?" There was no toilet or shower inside, only a pitiful sink in the corner.

The king smirked. "Oh, don't worry about that, my lady," he said. "I don't think you'll be needing to go to the bathroom today."

"SO YOU WON'T EVEN LET ME PEE?" I yelled, but Clarkson didn't listen. And as he reached the stairs, he turned to me one last time and said, "Prepare yourself, Lady America."

Then the tears came.

God, what was he going to do to me?

* * *

**MAXON'S POV**

"Where's America?" I asked my father, walking inside his room where he was going through letters from the sovereigns of other countries.

"Shut your hole," he said, somewhat absently. "Now, you have a budget meeting in thirty meetings. You can't be late."

I had enough of those awful meetings. "Father, I'll be damned if she gets hurt! What on earth did you do to her?"

"Later. Oh, and by the way, after the budget meeting, you have another one on – "

"I'm not going to any one of those sick meetings until I find her!" I was serious. I wasn't going to rest until I found out where my father had hidden her. I've looked everywhere. She wasn't in her room, she wasn't with the Leger guy, she wasn't in the garden, she wasn't in the infirmary, and she wasn't even in the dungeons downstairs, or in my father's study. I was beginning to suspect the worst.

"Maxon Schreave, you aren't getting _anything _out of me. And the war strategizing is on – "

"Fine then! Fine. I'll have to go ask someone else. Someone who actually has a heart."

I raced out the door, ignoring cries of "Get back here!" from my father. I couldn't care less about anything anymore, as long as I found America.

I somehow bumped into Kriss moments later. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"Prince Maxon!" Kriss said cheerfully. "How – "

"Lady Kriss, you haven't seen America around, have you?" Her face fell a little. How insensitive of me, I thought. How I talked about my desperation to get to America in front of Kriss. "I'm sorry, it's just I haven't seen her since this morning, and – "

"No, no," she said, masking her hurt face with a bubbly façade. "It's quite alright. Sorry, Maxon, but haven't seen her all day, either. Maybe she's in the garden?"

"No, I've looked there, as well." But it wouldn't hurt to double-check. "Thank you, Lady Kriss."

"Anytime." I went past her and ran to the garden, desperate to get to America. Again, she was nowhere to be found. In fact, no one else was there except for our gardener, Reg.

"Uncle Reg!" I jogged up to him. He looked up from watering the daffodils. "Hey, Maxon. You okay?" Uncle Reg wasn't very formal with me, but that was okay, being that he spent time with me when no one else would, laughing or telling corny jokes.

"Uncle Reg, have you seen America?"

"By America, do you mean Lady Singer?"

I groaned in frustration. "God, who else could I mean!?"

Reg sensed my impatience. "Look, okay, okay, I've seen her but – "

"You've seen her?"

"I should _not _have said that."

But I didn't listen; I was excited for news of America's whereabouts. "Tell me where!"

"I'm not even sure if I'm the right person to tell you where she is, okay?"

What did he mean? Did he mean America was hidden somewhere I'm not supposed to know of? Was she in danger or something? Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic begin to coarse through me, and images of America in danger came into my mind and

"WHERE IS SHE?!"

"I can't tell you!"

"I love her! Does that mean nothing to you? I need her, I love her, and there's a huge possibility she might be in danger! Now, if you could just tell me where she is, if I could just _see her – _"

"You can't!"

"Why not?! Look, Uncle Reg, you better tell me where she is, or else."

He swore under his breath. He looked at me, his blue eyes wide and pleading. "You better not get caught or the king'll have my head for this. After all, you're not supposed to know."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. In response, he nodded his head toward the rose bushes.

* * *

**AMERICA'S POV**

"America?"

I sat there huddled in the corner, not exactly sure what to do. Except cry. I've been sitting here for roughly four hours, and all I could do was cry. It made me sick.

I tried my best to keep my voice steady. "Yes?"

A tall, broad-shouldered figure appeared at the stairs. It came closer, and I shied away from it. I pulled my knees close to my chest and closed my eyes. "Go away," I said.

"America, it's Maxon."

At this I stood up and ran forward, gripping the bars of the suffocating prison cell. Maxon did the same, kneeling down and cupping my face. He was panting, his breaths hitched and uneven, similar to mine.

"Oh, my God, America, it's you! I – I love you," he whispered, holding my hand tightly. I reached my hand out and stroked his soft blond hair. A single tear rolled down my cheek.

"Maxon, I – Maxon, get me out of here I can't take it anymore I just I don't know what he's going to do to me and I'm so scared and – "

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay; I'm here. America – "

"And how did you find me here?"

"Mer, I didn't know this place even existed until the gardener told me about it! He saw you being dragged here and when I asked him about where you were – "

"You looked for me?" I asked. It made my heart melt.

"I didn't want to rest until I found you! I skipped all my meetings today."

"Max, you shouldn't have."

"It's okay! It's fine, I'm just – I'm so glad you're safe."

"And I'm so glad you're here! But Maxon, those meetings, you should go right now and attend them!" It bothered me that he didn't attend those important meetings all because of me. He shouldn't sacrifice his duties just to attend to me.

"America, don't you want me here?"

"No! Yes! I mean, yes, of course I do but – "

Maxon laughed. "I was kidding, America." He pressed a tender kiss on the back of my hand. "I love you," he repeated. I guess if circumstances were different, I would have said it back, but all I could do was smile and stay silent.

"Maxon, will you…" No. No, that was too much to ask of him. Still, I was so desperate for the feeling of him beside me, so I had to ask. "Maxon, will you stay with me?"

He looked into my eyes and smiled. "Yes, of course, Lady America." He positioned himself much more comfortably in front of me. He pressed his forehead against the bars and that's when I realized: _We were friends who didn't want to be without each other. We were the other's opposite in so many ways, yet also so very similar. I couldn't call our relationship fate, but it did seem bigger than anything I'd known before. _I loved Maxon Schreave, and I was glad to have something worth fighting for in this crazy messed-up world. I found "the one" in a world full of absolute strangers, and if that wasn't magic, I don't know what it is.

So when he says, "I'll stay with you. Forever and always", I think to myself, _I do believe in magic. I do._

* * *

**MAXON'S POV**

America and I must have fallen asleep at one point, because the next thing I remember is opening my eyes to the distant sound of heavy footsteps and the clinking of keys. I was still positioned in front of her, holding her hand, so I let go and gently shook her awake.

"America," I whispered. "Mer, wake up."

She stirred, and her eyes fluttered open slowly. Still groggy from sleep, she said, "_Whassamatter_?"

"America, someone's coming." The footsteps were getting closer and closer by the second. America's eyes shot open, and she immediately ran for the back of the cell, huddling in the corner. I tiptoed to the back of one of the towering stone pillars, crouching down and hiding in the shadows. The intruder was approaching quick; I could tell he or she was ascending the stairs.

As I poked my head out, I saw my father.

He was carrying a tray of food and a glass of water, and his expression told me he would rather have been doing anything else than this. He proceeded to America, who had her knees pulled close to her chest.

"Eat," he said, laying her food down right in front of the cell. America refused to budge. "I said, EAT YOU UNGRATEFUL SWINE!"

I felt an extreme surge of anger towards my father as America tentatively crawled forward, hastily taking a slice of bread. He had no right to talk to her like that. Father rolled his eyes and scoffed. "See, this is what you get for dilly-dallying around with that guard, you ignorant fool."

"Don't insult me," Mer snapped. Father rolled his eyes again. "Quickly. I have to take that tray back, you know."

He walked around the poorly lit room, fists balled. "Damn it. Where the hell is Maxon? He missed all his meetings today."

I immediately tensed up as he stood right in front of the pillar where I was hiding in. _Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit. _

"You sure he didn't come here?" I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding.

"Why would he go to a place he doesn't even know about?" America shot back.

Father was silent. "I do not recall myself mentioning that Maxon doesn't know about this place."

There was a certain air of hostility that came right after. _Oh, God, America, why?_

Luckily, America was able to come up with a somewhat convincing story. "Maxon never told me about some kind of secret dungeon, and he tells me everything. And don't you think, if he _did _know this place, he would've suspected I was here from the start? He should have been here already." She paused, probably to add to the effect. Her voice was quiet when she spoke. "But he hasn't."

I could sense my father rolling his eyes again. "Are you finished?" he asked America. She must have nodded, since I poked my head out once more and saw Father pick up the tray. He left her the glass of water.

"Tomorrow, Lady America. Tomorrow morning. We'll come for you, so be prepared."

And as he descended the stairs, he said something unintelligible. That is, if you weren't listening. I was. What he said made my heart shatter into millions of pieces, made my blood run cold and make everything seem like one big grayish blur.

"And you shall be publicly whipped and humiliated in front of all of Illéa."

* * *

**A/N: So. A lot happened in this chapter. The dungeon America was brought to is a secret, only known to the Illéan kings. Why did Maxon not know about this? Simple. He wasn't king yet. Reg knows because... well, Reg knows everything. When Maxon went inside his father's room looking for America, you could see he was a bit impatient. That's because, like he said, he's looked everywhere for her already.**

**I'll start working on Chapter 5 right now, and hopefully it will be up by tonight. The italicized text in the story was, again, a teaser for The One, and it was the latest one Kiera shared with us.**

**Also, hello, my dear guest reviewers. I've got some responding to do.**

**Guest: Umm, thanks for the review (I really appreciate it!), but sorry, how was Maxon out of character? In my eyes, given America's present state, it was the exact thing he would have done. Maxon's heart hurt like crazy when America was all like "but I loved you, you were my hero" to Aspen, but so did America's, remember? Her heart hurt more that Maxon's did, actually. She was already having a rough night (and I mean REALLY rough), so why was he going to make it worse by getting angry? He loves her. So he comforted her, even if he also needed comforting. He's just really kind that way. As for the Clace quote, well, I don't really care who said the quotes I put in the story. I could have put a quote by a Mexican truck driver about how magical it is to fall in love, actually. Again, I don't really mind the people who said them, it's the content I like. Then again, it's awesome to give the person appreciation! And Clace is forever, sorry. Maxerica is also lacking trust, to be frank with you. But thank you. Mini-rant over.**

**Guest mih: I pronounce it "Shreeve" as well, thanks! The memory loss happens… a week or two (?) after the public whipping. It's not Clarkson's fault though. I'm glad you liked it, and thanks for the review!**

**Sorry about this chapter, it's just I was writing in the middle of the night again, so Maxon looking for America wasn't that well written. But thanks for reading!**


	5. Dawn of Anguish

**A/N: OOPS! Did I say "publish the next chapter the same day"? I meant "the day after tomorrow"! *crashes through your window* HERE IT IS! Just like I promised. (There's one bad word, sorry) Also, to those of you wondering, the memory loss might happen like somewhere between Chapter 7-11, I don't know. But then I'll update more frequently now, given that my summer writing workshops are over. And I'm really exited for new boyfriend hotness and Maxerica fluff, too, so.**

* * *

As soon as Clarkson left, Maxon rushed to my side immediately, his expression laced with pain and concern and sorrow. "Did you hear?" he asked. How could I not have heard? I nodded, overwhelmed with shock. I was shocked speechless; I couldn't believe this was actually happening.

King Clarkson was having me publicly whipped.

"Maxon," I said, rattling the bars. "Maxon, please get me out now, please, just _try_, I can't… I don't want to even – " And once more, all I could do is cry.

I curled up into a ball, crying my eyes out. For a full ten minutes all I could do was weep and cry and shed tears and sob and wail and bawl and snivel and every synonymous word after, ignoring the nonsense words Maxon gently whispered to me.

"It's alright", he said.

"No one's going to hurt you", he said.

"You'll be okay", he said.

It hurt that he was telling downright lies to my face, because it's _not_ all right, people _are _going to hurt me, and everything is _not_ okay. This is not okay. This is not okay. This is not okay.

"Maxon, I'm going to be publicly whipped," I whined, stating the obvious. Saying aloud makes it feel so much more _real. _I couldn't organize my thoughts, only that I was getting whipped tomorrow, and everything will go to hell, and I can't even math.

"Mer, it'll be okay, I promise," he said gently. "I would know. I've been beaten already, remember? When it happens, just… count one to fifty."

"Fifty?"

"Yeah, fifty. Just count one to fifty, and it'll be over."

I shook my head violently. "It can't be that easy. Maxon, I can't do this!" I must be a coward, since I refused to face what my friends had already. Marlee faced this. Carter faced this. Maxon faced this. Jemmy Leger faced this. Why couldn't I?

Simple. I am a coward.

I am crumbling, breaking on the inside, damaging beyond repair, and again I feel I am meaningless, weightless, worthless, and all of me is nothing but nothingness combined with none other than nothing but flesh, blood, and bone. I am nothing. Nothing at all. "I'm a wimp, Maxon." We were silent for a while, the sound of my sniveling and uneven breaths the only ones we could hear.

"America, please look at me," Maxon said. I did. In his eyes were a million different emotions: concern, anger, hatred, fear, and so on. But pain was the most prominent. It's as if, through my being whipped, a part of him is dying with me, as if he is sharing in the pain I am experiencing.

"When I first met you, something about you was, in a way, magnetic. I wanted to get to know you, and I knew, without a doubt, that I wanted you to like me. And that next day, after our first date, I was seriously considering sending you home. You know why I didn't?" I shook my head. Maxon continued. "I let you stay because I thought you feared nothing. I genuinely admired you for that. And I wanted some of that bravery to rub off on me. Whatever you are, America, you're not a wimp. You're brave and strong, and you can face this.

"I'm not sure if I can stop this, okay? But whatever happens, I'll be right here. I'll stay with you until the very end."

I sniffed. "Really?"

Maxon grinned. "Yes, really." He took my hand and began kissing the tip of each finger. "America Singer, promise you'll never leave me. Promise me you'll be mine, and I swear I'll be yours. And we would be there for each other. Promise me you'll be what my mother is to my father: a source of comfort, the calm that grounds him. And I would be your guide, your protector."

I cupped his cheek. "I'm already yours." I was silent for a while. "Maxon?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm falling for you. Hard."

Maxon's face broke out into a huge grin. We laughed. "You know," he said, his voice low, "I probably would have been kissing you right now, but sadly" – he sighed – "I cannot."

I laughed at the ground, taking Maxon's other hand, the one that wasn't already holding mine. I leaned my head against the wall, closing my eyes, dreading the time when I finally have to open them. "By the way," I told Maxon, "I love you."

Then I let the darkness swallow me whole.

* * *

"No! No, she _can't _go up that platform without me, Father, she needs me!"

"You will not go up that platform, young man."

"I can be whipped alongside her if I have to!"

"Are you crazy? What will the people think of their prince being whipped in public?"

I opened my eyes. There were five people in front of me, all of which are men. King Clarkson was having a heated conversation with Maxon, and behind him were three tall, burly guards.

Dear God, they've come to take me away.

The king's eyes met mine. He broke out into a devilish grin, his expression cunning and devious. "Ah, Lady America! So glad you're awake."

"America!" Maxon kneeled in front of me. His eyes betrayed a look of absolute terror, and it pained me to see him like this. "America, I swear I'll do whatever it takes to – "

"SILENCE!" the king bellowed. He walked up to me and handed me something. "Wear this."

It was a simple, elegant dress made out of pale blue ivory linen. And though it was beautiful in its simplicity, it didn't look like something anyone of the upper castes would wear. At first sight, the message it conveyed was clear: I am not princess material. I am a simple girl from Carolina, with foolish hopes and foolish dreams. I was never meant to be a One.

I looked at King Clarkson. "Is there really a need to dress me up in this?" I asked quietly. The king ignored me. Intstead, he turned to Maxon. "We've been looking everywhere for you yesterday, and all this time you were with this… this – "

"I don't care!" Maxon snapped, standing up and balling his fists. "I don't care if you were looking for me, okay? You know, this whole ordeal is so _stupid_! There's absolutely no point in doing this! I hate this! I hate _you_! You're too much; stop meddling! And if you think – "

Whatever else Maxon had to say, the king cut him off by slapping him square in the face. A look of pure rage glinted in his eyes, and something told me he would have done much worse if people hadn't been watching. Clarkson spoke through gritted teeth. "Don't you _dare _talk to me that way, Maxon Schreave. I am your father, and I demand _respect_."

Maxon shook his head. Again, he crouched down in front of my cell, gripping the bars and looking into my eyes as he spoke. "I don't care who you are anymore, either. Just, _please_, let her go, and everything will be forgotten. I'll do anything for you to spare her. Please."

I was crying by then, touched by how desperate he was to save me. "Maxon," I whispered, "you don't have to do this, just – "

"Maxon," King Clarkson boomed. "Leave. _Now._"

Maxon and I were quiet for a while, not doing anything but stare at each other. "It'll be okay," he promised. "America, I'm so sorry…"

"Shh," I whispered. "It's fine, it's not your fault. Just, go. Okay?" He nodded. "I love you," he said.

"I love you, too," I replied. "Don't worry, Maxon, I'm going to be fine. I can do this, okay? I'll be fine. I'll just count one to fifty, and everything'll be over, right?" He nodded again, and a silent tear rolled down his cheek.

Afterwards, he reluctantly stood up, slowly making his way to the stairs. One of the guards accompanied him. He glanced at me one last time as he left, sorrow etched across his features.

Clarkson sighed, seeming almost bored. "What a touching display of grief. Now wear the dress, bitch."

* * *

I limped my way to the gravel-covered courtyard, where I would be whipped and humiliated in front of the country. Guards dragged me there, and that overwhelming feeling of nothingness struck me again. The dress fit me perfectly, except it was now torn and covered in grime. It went down just above my knees, exposing the purplish-blue bruises on my legs. There were more on my arms, and my face was a swollen mess. King Clarkson made sure I was beaten before I made my entrance. My disheveled red hair was fixed into a side-braid. I was barefoot.

I tried my best not to writhe in pain as the stones dig into my feet. My hands were bound together tightly behind my back with thick ropes. I refused to meet anyone's eyes, ignoring the crowd's cries of hate and disdain. _It'll be okay, America. It'll be okay. _

Why am I looking down? I wouldn't give people the pleasure of seeing me weak and broken. I wouldn't let them see me look ashamed.

The scene was familiar; it looked just like it did with Marlee. The large platform was once again set up in the middle of the courtyard. Hundreds of people, both young and old, were crowded together, all swinging their fists at me or flashing dirty looks. Cameras were, again, positioned around the platform. The A-like structure was there, as well, the wooden block with loops at the end probably stored away.

I looked at the crowed. Again, the Elite were given front-row seats next to the royal family. All were dressed in dark colors, Celeste going for a sexy navy blue. She was wearing one of those dresses with slits that go up to your thigh. Why couldn't she just dress decently for once? The whole time, her arms were crossed in front of her chest, her expression smug and triumphant.

I was dragged forward again by one of the guards. "No delays, Miss Singer," he said.

I looked once more. Elise was composed, but she did seem a little worried for me. She looked my way and smiled reassuringly, and though we never talked much, I was grateful for that little act of kindness. Kriss looked nervous, but she seemed relieved._ Actually relieved_. How does she think this feels?

Queen Amberly was calm, but something about her posture showed the dread and concern she must be feeling right now. To her left was Clarkson, his face hard and impassive, and beside him was Maxon.

_Maxon._

It almost seemed as if he was handcuffed to his seat, the way he was struggling. Actually, I think he _was. _He met my eyes and he was crying, tears glistening down his perfect face. His expression was that of pure torture, and I couldn't shut out his strangled cries of "Let me go!" At least three guards stood by, probably to prevent him from running to me like I did with Marlee.

"AMERICA!" he called, eyes wide. I wanted to tell him to stop screaming, stop strangling and stop drawing attention to himself, but I was scared speechless.

I looked away as I was led onto the platform, my head held high. A man in a mask began speaking, just like before. "Citizens of Illéa," he bellowed, "two nights ago, Lady Celeste Newsome of Clermont was found in an intimate moment with a trusted member of the Royal Guard, Officer Aspen Leger!" The crowd gasped in disbelief. The man continued. "And though it is an offense against the royal family, King Clarkson, in his goodness, decided to forgive their actions! Long live King Clarkson!"

The crowd chanted after him. It took only so much of me to stop myself from rolling my eyes. "But recently, we have found out that America Singer has been secretly meeting up with Officer Leger around the palace!" The people shrieked in outrage. "This is a crime punishable by death! Officer Leger was forgiven for his honesty, but Miss Singer has broken her vow of loyalty to our prince! She could've been killed, but Prince Maxon decided to spare her! Thanks to him, America Singer is still allowed to compete in the Selection, with the exemption that she will no longer receive her weekly stipend. Long live Prince Maxon!" Again, the crowed cheered after him.

The man turned to me. "America Singer, to inflict upon you the shame and pain you have brought on His Majesty, you shall be publicly whipped twenty times. May your scars remind you of your many sins!"

The next thing I know, my dress was being zipped down roughly, exposing my bare back. The man also took off my bra, probably so that it wouldn't get in the way as I get whipped.

Maybe this was what they meant by "humiliating me". Nothing in the world was more embarrassing.

I was strapped to the A-shaped frame, my legs spread wide and my arms pulled into a position that mimicked the structure. Padded belts were wrapped around my waist and legs, tightened to a point that was extremely uncomfortable.

Another masked man took out a single-tailed whip. He approached me, smirking as he came closer. "Still haven't learned from Miss Tames, have you?" he mocked

He raised the whip in the air, and the next thing I remember was feeling a crippling pain in my back. I cried out in agony. It felt as if my entire body was on fire; the sting of the lash was so overwhelming, I felt as if I would pass out. If this was one lash, then I could only imagine what it would be like to handle nineteen more.

"One!" someone cried out.

My parents must be ashamed of me. I had brought disgrace to my family's name. "America!" Maxon cried, horror laced in his voice. "America! No! Stop!"

Another lash. My eyes began to well up with tears; I couldn't even breathe.

"Two!"

People cried in satisfaction. Sadistic, stupid, idiotic people who haven't even experienced this excruciating ache.

One thing left to do. It was stupid, maybe, but it was worth a shot. As a reminder that it'll be over soon. Maybe it'll get me through this whole ordeal.

And as the third strike fell on my back, I began to count one to fifty.

* * *

**A/N: Phrases that sound familiar belong to Kiera Cass. I will still continue updating this even after May 6****th****, just in case Maxerica isn't endgame. But if they are, well I'll still update this anyway. Also, if you happen to have The One already and I still do not, please do not spoil anything through reviews. And thanks, ****Maxon's Rose****! That review was **_**so**_** rad!**


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